


Polaroid

by kunemoo



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I indent a LOT too maybe sorry about that, M/M, Sadly... lack of polaroid content, Sorry to pull a Modern Song Title on ya--
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunemoo/pseuds/kunemoo
Summary: Sniper gets sick and misses out on a crew vacation. Scout fills him in, and has some surprises in store.





	Polaroid

Sniper was one to not spend a lot of time on base. Thus, he was often updated last of the team. Sometimes, it was the morning after the event, and other times it was up to a _week_ after something happened. It seemed like he would be updated in a week, this time. A tidal wave of updates, actually.

 

The team had to battle in Colfront the week before they were scheduled to go on a trip to the nearby cities. The Administrator and her team were suffering from a series flight delays, which in turn delayed their plans and procedures for the next battle. As a result, RED and BLU had a week to goof off and explore nearby cities while the Administrator team pulled themselves together.

 

With the teleporters at their many different bases, several destinations were at their fingertips.

 

Well, _almost_ every destination. The frigid air of Coldfront short-circuited the teleporter that sent them to their regular base at Teufort, so the nine had to fly to Suijin and use the teleporter there.

 

Everything went swell, except for two facts-- Sniper was both 1) the least inclined for the cold and 2) somehow felt ill around public AC.

 

Chilly breezes and airplane air conditioning of any sort joined forces to jump Sniper's immune system, making the man get quite the sickness the day after making it to Suijin. He tried to shrug it off to not bring everyone else down, but he was seen through rather quickly.

 

He guessed it was because of the head-splitting headache. That made him writhe in pain the whole morning. Scout saying he was oddly warm was probably a red flag, too.

 

By Medic's demand and prescription, Sniper was sent home to Teufort for the week. It had been a week since. Medic checked in through the earpieces they had, making sure Sniper's condition was improving and not worsening. And also relaying the message that Scout said hi and he loved him.

 

That helped him to crack a smile through the pain.

 

He still felt bad.

 

Scout told him not to worry about it. Sniper's mind always had other ideas, and he was too sick to fight them off, this time.

 

It would have been their first time getting to go on a trip while going on cute dates on the trip. Scout was so excited during the Coldfront battle to go and enjoy the upcoming week, but...

 

Here Sniper was. And there the eight others were.

 

Then again, he reckoned he needed some recharge time and fresh air. The Coldfront cabins were a bit stuffy and cramped, and there wasn't much of a concept of privacy due to limited space. He shared a room with someone who was almost as withdrawn as he was, though he could have gone without the smell of cigarettes.

 

Maybe it was good he got sick. That way he can get the smoke out of his lungs for good.

 

Otherwise, today seemed like the mucus stuck in his lungs and throat from yesterday disappeared. Just like how the pain in his throat ebbed away two days ago. And how his fever broke two days after being sent home. Medic's prescription pills were _not_ an experiment this time around, which was good. In fact, they were a right godsend.

 

He was just about cured today, compared to when he first got home. Sniper decided to take the chance to clean himself up and air out the camper. He stretched, feeling his joints crack from the stiffness formed by illness and sleep. _God_ , that felt nice.

 

* * *

 

 

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his thick hair, happy that it was free from fever-sweat. Next to go were the sheets, once he was well enough to lug around laundry. He gently swung the door open, a cool breeze brushing his face and neck. Just the welcome he loved.

 

And grew used to, living in solitude for so long.

 

Today seemed to be one of the many breaks from isolation he had since joining RED. He saw two smaller figures approaching his camper. Without his shades, the sunlight hitting the ground seemed to try and blind him. As a result, he squinted and shaded his eyes with a hand. As he grew more adjusted to the sunlight, he recognized more distinctive features.

 

The shorter one had yellow on top, while the taller one was donned in white. Brown pants complimented their red attire. Only two people he knew dressed like such.

 

 _Doc and Truckie_ , the marks man told himself, raising a curious brow. They were back already?

 

It hit him-- right. He was sick in bed for the _week_. Doc even called and said they were coming back yesterday. All the sleeping he did for the past few days probably made time fly by.

 

Sniper reached for his hat, slipped on his shades, and walked towards the two, clearing his throat.

“G'day.”

 

“Mornin', Slim,” Engineer greeted, grinning, “How 're ya feelin'?”

 

“I hope your condition has improved, or else,” Medic chuckled a bit, “Ve'll need to talk about the pills _and_ vhy you should not be mobile vhile sick.”

 

Sniper shrunk into himself-- he knew better than to ignite the fuse of the mother hen and mad scientist healer of the pack. He cleared his throat again.

 

“Trust me, 'm good,” Sniper spoke, not croaking this time, “Not speakin' for a while's done me voice in. Headaches went away a few days ago, and the fever broke two days after sleepin' it off.”

 

“Good, good,” the doctor nodded serenely, “I still need to check your temperature and vitals, so please come by the clinic soon.”

 

The marksman nodded, “Will do, Doc.”

 

With that, Medic walked off. Probably to tend to the doves and make sure everything was up and running in the clinic. They had work to do tomorrow, after all. The doves were well supplied while Lieutenant Bites and Hoots could fend for themselves, but Sniper still checked up on the former two anyways.

 

Not that the doctor should know. Nor Scout or Truckie, if he wanted to save some rants and lectures coming his way.

 

In fact, that was probably a secret he should keep to himself.

 

Engineer looked to Sniper with more cheer, “Everyone'll be glad, then. 'Specially Skeeter. Boy was stuck in a shop for an hour pickin' out a souvenir for ya, 'til Pyro helped him. He wanted to visit ya today, but we didn't want to accidentally give ya a headache.”

 

Sniper furrowed his brow a bit, fondness in his chest, “I reckon I wouldn't 've minded, Truckie.”

 

The shorter man smile softly, “I know, Slim, but you know how loud he can get when he's real excited. And boy, did he talk our ears off on our way to the Teufort teleporter. You'll be fully updated with one conversation with 'im, promise.”

 

“Wouldn't doubt it,” Sniper replied, trying to bite back a smile.

 

“Think you're well enough to make it to supper?” Engineer inquired his smile wider, “Tonight's pizza night. Pyro and Scout's request.”

 

Sniper let a huff of laughter slip through his nose before nodding and looking back to the camper, “Sure. Should probably visit Doc, first. Don't want to get th' rest of ya sick, an' all.

 

“Mighty kind of ya, Slim. See ya soon.”

 

With that, the two men waved goodbye. Sniper got ready, dressing in his work shirt and trousers. Never did he imagine feeling _good_ having the uniform on. Yet, here he was, walking toward the base and having his work clothes feel like a breath of fresh air.

 

Oddly enough, Scout and Pyro weren't in the rec room, like usual. The probably were playing games or something of the sort in either one's room. According to the firebug, Scout also had the tendency to ramble things to them, as well. Especially when it was before he and Scout became an item.

 

So _that_ was why Pyro was being such a wingman... And why a good chunk of the team gave him a right knowing smile whenever the runner was in the same room as him.

 

A familiar voice calling his name pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

“Aye, lad,” Demoman greeted with a grin, “Heard ye were feelin' better. Want a drink tae celebrate? Or one tae clear the headaches, maybe. Helps with me.”

 

Sniper blinked soon shaking his head with a polite smile, “'Fraid not, mate. Still not in the clear 'til I visit the doc.”

 

“I knae how it is,” Demo nodded, “Good luck, laddie.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The two said goodbye and Sniper was off. He soon stepped into the office doors before he knew it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The good news was that he was cured of his sickness. He was free to go and roam and do what he pleased without strain. Scout and Hoots would be happy to hear such.

 

The bad news?

 

His muscle memory betrayed him. A week of not going into the base mess hall made him make soup in his camper without realizing it. Instead of trying to overeat or waste food, Sniper just rolled with it and ate in his van.

 

After putting his dishes away and making sure the camper was airing out, he heard a knock at the door. Judging from today's events, he had a good guess of who the guest was. Plus, the knock was pretty fast, like how a certain someone liked to go.

 

A smile tugged at the corners of Sniper's mouth as he opened the door.

 

In front of him was a shorter man with a bright, buck-toothed smile on his face. In his arms was a sketchbook, along with a small bundle of items.

 

At least, it looked like a small bundle, because he didn't have time to get a look at it before Scout wrapped him in a one-armed hug. Sniper hugged the younger man back, nuzzling in his hair. Scout pulled back, smiling even wider.

 

“Snipes!” he exclaimed, before recoiling and speaking more quietly, “Shit, sorry. How are ya? You ain't feelin' bad again, are ya? Doc said you were better, but we couldn't find ya anywhere at dinner and we got all confused and worried. You're good, are ya? Sorry if ya ain't. I completely hugged the shit outta ya, but I missed you, y'know? Seriously though, are ya good?”

 

Sniper held his hands out in front of him, a small smile penetrating his face, “Woah there, Roo. One at a time. 'M better, and I appreciated the hug. I missed ya, too. Also, you don't have t' speak quietly. Me headaches went away days before you guys came back.”

 

Scout let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Man, you wouldn't _believe_ what happened on the trip.”

 

Sniper stepped out, closing the door behind him. He walked with the runner as they sat on the chair under the Winnie's canopy, Scout's bundle of things on his lap.

 

“C'mon, Snipes,” he pouted, “I don't get sick _that_ easily. I ain't a kid or nothin'.”

 

Sniper gave him a tranquil smile, “I know. Still, we have work tomorrow.”

 

“.....”

 

“Don't ya also want to stargaze on this right fine, cloudless night? There's a constellation this time o' year I think you'd like.”

 

Scout rolled his eyes, still pretending to pout, “You have me swoonin', Snipes. Not only will we talk the night away, but we'll be doin' it romantic as hell, under the stars.”

 

The two laughed together for a few moments, then Scout got started on all the stories.

 

On one day apparently, they somehow got kicked out of a pizzeria due to Soldier trying to strip and cover himself with honey.

 

Scout knew for a fact it was because the giant mascot striking nightmares into the hearts of children was, in fact, a bear. He and Pyro were the only ones who got to stay in and play games because they weren't with the rest of the group. They just went to get pizza, came back, and saw that the table was empty, an absurdly large amount of honey packets were making a trail out of the door, and that they now had the lone token cup _all to themselves._

 

Once Sniper was done hunching over with laughter, Scout mentioned also going to a photo booth and arcade with the firebug in Suijin. He drew antennae on Pyro in one picture, stating how they were now an actual firebug.

 

It was the reason they weren't in the rec room, actually-- he and Pyro were working on making an antenna out of pipe cleaner.

 

Speaking of Py, they were insanely good at the rhythm games there, though they had none of the sort at the base. That confused both him and Hardhat, and if that boggled _him_ of all people, that mystery was never getting solved.

 

Soldier also won at the hammer game in the same arcade, and later got himself a gigantic raccoon plush from a shop nearby. Demo got a kick out of it and helped Soldier carry the thing. The two of them ended up using it as a pillow.

 

“Speakin' of arcades and shops,” Scout muttered, digging through a small bag and holding up two trinkets, “Gotcha some things. I hope ya like 'em.”

 

Sniper hold them in his hands-- a small stuffed kangaroo in one hand, and an owl keychain of some sort. The marksman gave Scout a rare, unrestrained smile.  
  
“Thanks, Scout... these 're right cute. I know jus' where to put 'em both.”

 

Scout looked like his cheeks were pink in the moonlight. Sniper could've just imagined it.

 

“Glad ya like 'em, babe.”

 

What he _didn't_ imagine was the way Scout's freckles seemed to look like stars on his cheeks. That always happened whenever moonlight, or _any_ sort of light for that matter, kissed his cheekbones just right to accentuate the faint specks there. He always loved spotting these instances.

 

He thought freckles were right cute, as a matter of fact.

 

His train of thought broke once he felt Scout poke him on the forehead, “Woah there. Miss me that much?”

 

Sniper blinked, at first bewildered, then realized Scout looked a _bit_ closer than he remembered. In fact, Sniper was leaning over his chair, _him_ being the one who made the first move... Sort of.

 

The marksman jolted, scooting back to where he was. He looked back and saw that the runner had that brilliant smile on his face, again. Scout's laughing was music to his ears.

 

“Hey, I didn't say I minded it,” Scout's smile was... different, somehow, but Sniper swore he saw a spark in those blue eyes, “Gimme some sugar.”

 

The marksman fell into Scout's embrace, expecting a kiss. Huffs of laughter spilled from his lips as Scout pecked him on the forehead. The runner pulled back with a smug little grin, running his hands through Sniper's hair.

 

“Don't want me gettin' sick, remember?”

 

Sniper snorted, “Right.”

 

The two cuddled like that for a while, Scout occasionally pecking kisses and Sniper nuzzling closer. Scout didn't look like he was going to let go any time soon, but that was okay. As he hugged the runner back, he got to see some of the things that were on his lap. Most were unfamiliar. Probably from the trip.

 

There was the sketchbook under everything else, with stickers. Some worn and familiar, others newer, and some he had never seen before. Something particular stuck out, however-- it was rectangular, with circular lens that mirrored the moon above.

 

“...Since when d'you have a camera?”

 

Scout smirked at that, “That's the other thing-- I got this on the trip and took lots of photos.”

 

He let the marksman go, sliding his sketchbook from under the Polaroid camera and bag. He flipped the cover open so that a few pictures slid to his lap. He passed the pictures to Sniper and thumbed through the book to find what he was looking for.

 

Sniper looked down at the developed pictures in his hands, both interested and amused. It looked like the crew had fun.

 

There were some pictures of the team going about their day, or exploring something new. He chuckled when he saw some of them had Soldier and Demo climbing the monument in the background (with Soldier, more often than not, falling off).

 

A chunk of them were scenery photos and Sniper stared at them, trying to picture himself in that small window of time. He relaxed in the grassy fields and breezes of the seaside, then felt serene under a flowering cherry blossom tree.

 

“There it is,” Scout's voice brought him out of his thoughts a second time, “At first, I bought the camera for shits and giggles. Then, I took a few pretty pics and tried drawin' 'em.”

 

The runner tilted the book towards the marksman, an eager smile on his face. Sniper looked at the drawings, then at their respective pictures side by side.

 

“What do ya think, Snipes?”

 

The marksman was no artist, but _anything_ Scout drew had some sort of.... essence to it. Something that made it have its own unique voice to it, making you know it was Scout who drew it. Was that called a style? Maybe...

 

Regardless, these pictures were bloody brilliant. It didn't have the rose-tinted colors to it like the photo, but the scene was alive. The actual picture looked frozen and preserved as a memory, while Scout's version looked... revived? It was hard to describe.

 

What he _did_ know was, like the rest of Scout's colored works, it was...

 

“Vibrant,” Sniper said.

 

“Hm?”

 

Sniper jolted, realizing he spoke aloud, “I-- I mean... It looks really nice. Pops out, but in a good way. Makes me feel like I'm actually there. Vibrant and lively. Just like the artist.”

 

Sniper was set to hunch in on himself, rambling and stuttering all over the place like he did. Little did he know Scout's smile reached his eyes as he leaned in and nuzzled the top of Sniper's head.

 

“You have a way with words, babe.”

 

Sniper grumbled a bit, hunching and leaning onto Scout.

 

“I mean it. Nicer than what some of my brothers told me when I was younger.”

 

Sniper pulled back a bit and looked up, “Same one who stuffed you in th' rabbit hutch?”

 

“Yeah, you can say that,” Scout looked to the side, “Proved 'im wrong to hell and back, though. Same goes for some of the assholes back in high school. Ain't important now.”

 

The marksman leaned back in, “Good t' hear, darl.”

 

Scout tugged him closer, nuzzling into his hair. Sniper tried to hug back at the angle he was at. He was able to hug him with his right arm, and Scout's weight on him increased as a response. They sat in comfortable silence again. Sniper allowed a smile to meet his eyes, happy with moments like these.

 

Though, to be honest, any moment with the runner was a nice one.

 

Scout hummed, but the tone of it made it sound more like a groan. Sniper pulled back, raising a brow.

 

“Everything good?”

 

“Yeah,” Scout shifted his weight to the armrest farthest from Sniper, “Just realized I wanted to snap a pic of the night sky. Then I remembered they don't show up well in dark places. Unless the thing you're takin' the pic of is really bright, but...yeah. Then I also remembered I ran outta film yesterday, I gotta get more tomorrow.”

 

“We can always take out the telescope and go on the roof.”

 

The runner grinned, shaking his head, “Nah, you're still recoverin'.”

 

“Doc cleared me today.”

 

“Stubborn, stubborn,” Scout muttered, jolted, then blinked, “Wow. Sounded just like my ma when I was little.”

 

“Maybe you're rubbin' off on me?”, Sniper commented with a smirk.

 

Scout grinned right back, “I ain't a nerd, though.”

 

“I had to 've learned it from somewhere, though... and from the best.”

 

“You...!”

 

Scout leaned over and swung an arm around Sniper's neck, bringing him down. The runner ruffled Sniper's hair into messy oblivion, the marksman powerless to stop it. The two busted up into laughter.

 

“You lil' anklebiter!”

 

“Whatcha get for callin' me a nerd!”

 

“Says the one who's settin' himself up to be a photography nerd!”

 

Scout pulled back, holding up the camera with a sly grin, “Ya better watch it mister, or else this camera ain't gonna be used just as art reference.”

 

“That so?” Sniper inquired, smirking and raising a brow, “What other uses 're there?”

 

“That's a surprise,” the runner held a finger up to his lips, smile growing more coy before stretching, “'S getting' late, I should head back...”

 

Scout looked back with sad eyes, and Sniper gave him a fond smile. He patted the runner's head.

 

“Sorry, Roo. Still airin' out the place. The sheets need to be washed, too. You'll be seein' me tomorrow, anyways.”

 

“...Awright, you win,” Scout said as he stood, gently pushing Sniper back down when he went to stand.

 

He pressed a chaste kiss to Sniper's forehead, then another at the corner of his mouth. He then wrapped the marksman in a tight hug, the marksman hugging back. The runner gave Sniper one last kiss to the cheek, gathered up his stuff, and walked back to base.

 

“Sleep tight, babe.”

 

“You too, love.”

 

The night was silent, save for Hoots landing on the camper's roof. He thought about Scout's words considering the camera.

  
  
_“That's a surprise.”_

 

....What was _that_ supposed to mean?

 

The marksman was clueless to the meaning of the phrase. He thought he should at least have _some_ sort of idea about what it meant, but nothing came to mind.

 

He'll think about it tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

It had been about a week since Sniper's recovery and RED's return from vacation. Sniper was enjoying the evening after a successful day at work, petting the content little owl on his arm.

 

Sniper still had no clue what the “surprise” could possibly be.

 

Knowing the runner, though... it was sure to cause some trouble. He _had_ been called the Team Troublemaker for a reason. Especially considering the pranks he can pull on Spy... the classic “bucket-on-the-door” trick was still a hoot on base to this day.

 

…No pun intended, of course.

 

Hoots decided it was his time to fly off to hunt for the night, talons scraping along his arm. Sniper smiled. He then felt arms slink around his middle, twisting around and soon hugging back.

 

“Hey, Roo,” the marksman greeted, “Good work out there.”

 

“Thanks, man. You too. Saved my ass at least twice, today.”

 

Sniper felt heat resting on his cheeks, pulling his hat over his eyes, “So did you. I would've been screwed if you and Solly hadn't thrown that Heavy in a whirl for me.”

 

“Goin' fast and savin' ass is of my many talents, Snipes,” Scout replied confidently, though Sniper easily saw the splotches of red covering his face.

 

Sniper grinned at that, ruffling the runner's hair under his cap.

 

“'M not doubtin' it.”

 

“Hey!” Scout fixed his cap, trying not to smile but failing, “Don't make me revoke this gift I walked oh-so-long to give to ya.”

 

Sniper raised a brow and smiled again, “Gift, hm? How'd I get so lucky?”

 

The runner's freckled cheeks began to get redder, “You're gettin' on _thin ice_ , pal!”

 

Scout pushed what was in his hand on Sniper's chest, the marksman looking down. He curiously tilted his head.

 

“An envelope?”

 

Scout nodded, “It's a surprise. Open it when you're alone, like in your camper or somethin'.”

 

The marksman raised his eyebrows, looking down at the envelope again. He had an incredulous, yet fond gleam in his eyes.

 

“Knowin' you, Roo, I'm a lil'... suspicious.”

 

“C'mon, Snipes, since when have I ever played a prank on ya?”

 

“There's always a first for everything...”

 

Scout lightly jabbed him in the chest, “It ain't a prank, promise. It's.... well, I _hope_ it's good.”

 

Now Sniper was even _more_ confused than last week. He saw Scout smirk through the redness on his face, giving the marksman two simple, kind pats on the shoulder.

  
  
“You'll see.”

 

Bewilderment flashed in Sniper's eyes for a moment. Scout then chuckled and gently pulled the marksman down by his shirt collar, giving him a chaste kiss. And another. And then another.

 

“You're fuckin' adorable, Snipes,” he commented, smiling wide, “See ya at dinner?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied with goofy grin, “See ya there, Roo.”

 

He watched the runner jog back to base. Whether to chill in the rec room, run a few laps around the place, or even concoct a new prank on Spy, he didn't know.

 

What he _did_ know was that he had the answer to his questions in his hands, and he should probably open it. Maybe cautiously, maybe carefully. The most important thing was that he was at least alone.

 

Sniper checked his surroundings (then again, he _constantly_ did such) before gingerly breaking the seal on the envelope, a little ways away from his chest.

 

Nothing flew out. That was good.

 

He brought the envelope closer to his chest, peeked inside, then pulled out the contents. There was a small sheet of lined paper, paper flowers (which Scout probably painted and cut out, judging by the texture), and... a black polaroid photo?

 

Wait, no. He saw the logo on the bottom, and noticed how the other side was smoother. He flipped it around, and...

 

 _Oh_ , Sniper pondered, his face growing warmer and warmer.

 

The picture was one Scout took of himself-- it was below his eyes, just so that the camera could catch that classic smirk of his and the rosiness of his freckled cheeks. With his free hand, the runner lifted the slightly worn red baseball shirt he had on, so that his flat stomach and the curve between his waist and hips were exposed. Along them were freckles, highlighted where light gently kissed skin.

 

On the sheet of lined paper was a (most likely) flirtatious question and signature, both in familiar handwriting.

 

_Loosen up my buttons?_

♡ _Scout_

 

Sniper already had several smart answers in his head, trying to cool off his burning cheeks.

 

One thing that helped was that the fact that the shirt the runner had on didn't even _have_ buttons. Classic Scout. Speedy, artsy, darling Scout.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on here.... sorry if I completely butchered the accents weeps,,, Feel free to comment!!  
> I'm up for constructive criticism and making new buddies ☆  
> I might be posting older fic too, bc I have been DYING to talk about a TF2 AU I made. Hmu hmu!!  
> Thank you for reading!! （´ω｀♡ ）


End file.
